


Numinous

by Lindsey (Lipstick)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Long Shot, Major Character Injury, One Shot, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstick/pseuds/Lindsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her body is finally able to be placed down upon clean, white sheets, Eren cannot help the eerie thought that she looks like she has been laid to rest, the bed her coffin, the sheets her shroud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numinous

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from anon user 'Joker,' who requested Mikasa slipping into a coma during a mission. This was initially going to be posted with _Girls and Boys_ but it became such a behemoth that I decided to post it alone. 
> 
> I thought the word 'numinous' was appropriate, given the definition: _having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity_

The misstep is so slight, so small, that if Eren hadn’t been watching her he would’ve missed it. But, as fate often does, it had different plans, and unfortunately, he did see it. He saw the way her foot caught on a rogue tree branch and snagged. He watched her eyes widen in a way that would’ve been comical if the situation at hand hadn’t been so terrifying. In seconds, he finds out that the only thing scarier than losing his parents is the chance that he’s going to lose Mikasa, too. 

He’s too far away to catch her and so the titan catches her first. 

He’s already running and looping and fucking flying but it’s too late. 

As she starts to tumble down the tree, the titan rips her from the trunk, leaving her gear to hang desolately from where she’d last been. Levi is closer to her than he is and Eren knows he won’t be the first to reach her. There is little Eren can do besides watch as the titan lifts up her struggling, fighting body by her left leg. She’s writhing, squirming as she attempts to pull her sword from it’s sheath, and Eren doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he sees her leg slip out from between the titan’s thick, grimy fingers, her body falling back into the air once more. The titan’s fingers, Eren realizes with a glance, are so coated and slick with blood from previous kills that her leather boot has slipped from its grasp. 

It takes only seconds more for Levi to annihilate the aforementioned titan with a quiet, quick slice to the back of the neck. There’s a loud rumble after it, too, falls, collapsing on its knees first before the rest follows. 

Those seconds feel like minutes as Eren watches Mikasa descend headfirst to the ground below. 

Eren has not believed in God for many years, but even he cannot think of another force besides divine intervention that saves her: The titan, with its weight more massive than hers, hits the ground first. Mikasa—no longer struggling—is lucky enough that despite her headfirst fall, the hand of the titan that had tried to eat her cushions her, a pillow that it did not intend to be. 

Later, Eren will not remember much about the moments that follow. He will vaguely recall landing by her side, abandoning his gear to god knows where. There will be flashes of Levi taking down more titans—one, two, three? Eren doesn’t remember the finer details—and he will only recall the time after, when Mikasa is being pried from his arms and whisked away; she’s being heaved into Jean’s arms and he’s carrying her off. 

It’s a cut to his pride to see her taken from him and he finds himself torn between following the pair and staying to complete the goddamn mission of retrieving a titan to take back; a failure of a mission, if losing one of their best is to count for anything. It’s only when his eyes meet Levi’s for a brief second— _make your goddamn choice Yeager but do it quick_ —that Eren decides to turn his own horse around and follow behind Jean. 

The distance between where she fell and the wall seems to extend endlessly, a hodgepodge of dirt, trees, and fallen comrades that Eren has no time to mourn. This is not where she would want to die; it is not where she deserves to die. Jean is farther ahead and reaches the wall sooner than he; he’s already screaming for the walls to open before Eren has a chance to open his mouth. Eren can see her hand hanging over the side of Jean’s arms, her body strewn horizontally over him, and it is limp, without any sign of life—home, Eren forcibly reminds himself. He has to get her home, because he will not let her die in land filled with monsters that will crush her grave and body beneath their feet. 

When her body is finally able to be placed down upon clean, white sheets, Eren cannot help the eerie thought that she looks like she has been laid to rest, the bed her coffin, the sheets her shroud. Her red scarf has been removed and lays quietly on the nightstand next to her. There’s bile that rises up into his throat as a doctor attempts to talk to him—bile that climbs up and expels itself; he spews out a nearby window when the doctor’s words begin to echo like a dirge. Eren is not ready for the news that Mikasa has not—or will not—wake up. He cannot begin to fathom a world that she is not a part of. The doctor gives up in his attempts to communicate.

The respite of silence is only momentary; seconds later, Eren finds the room crowded with too many living, breathing bodies. They’re touching her everywhere—her forehead, her back, raising her shirt to feel and attempt to hear a heartbeat. There are lots of needles and words tossed around, words that are big and confusing and all he really understands are the words ‘possible brain trauma' and ‘coma’ that are repeatedly tossed around, flying over his head to another nurse, another doctor. Eren has become a fly on the wall, a nuisance they want to shove out, but they’re too preoccupied with their patient to give him the time of day. Eren has not realized that Jean has not left the room either until he feels a strong, steady hand on his shoulder for only a moment. 

He watches Jean open his mouth and close it; they both know there is no words of comfort that will make either of them feel better in this moment. Instead, they linger in the back of the room, until Eren, in an act of desperation begins to yell, “Is she going to live?” He is not acknowledged, though he sees the rise of a nurse’s eyebrows to another nurse across from her. 

He can almost hear her words, unspoken but obvious: _He’s still here? He’s in the way!_

He wants to tell them that Mikasa is not a soldier or a number but a person. He opens his mouth to tell them to be careful with her arm, that she dislikes needles and would not want to have any near her arm, but before his mouth can form words there’s a needle in each of her arms. He watches blood prickle from the wounds when they’re removed and wonders if she’ll forgive him for the mess they’re making of her body. If it is her head that’s damaged he questions the need for so many pricks into her arms. But, he supposes, he’s not the doctor or even a nurse; he is not allowed to have a say in her immediate medical care. 

It feels like hours before people begin to fade out of the room; four nurses and three doctors dwindles to one of each. Mikasa has still not woken but she appears to have more color to her face, her cheeks a light dusting of pink. Her breathing is shallow and sounds loud in the silent room of the doctor’s cabin. Every once in a while her breath catches, as though someone has swiped the air from her lungs; the hitch always settles and Eren finds himself comforted by the knowledge that, even if she isn’t awake, she’s alive and breathing the same air as him. 

Eren pulls a chair to her bedside, eyes fixated on her lips as he hears the sound of another chair scraping on her opposite side. Part of him wants Jean to go, to leave him in peace with her, because he has so many things he wants to tell her but can’t with another pair of ears around. But he doesn’t, because he sees the way Jean’s hand reaches out and snakes around hers, watches as his fingers lace with Mikasa’s as if they’ve always done it. (Have they? He realizes there are so many aspects of her life he has not paid attention to.) 

Eren fights down the vomit that begins to creep its way up his throat once more. 

“I can keep watch,” Eren finally says, tasting the acid in his mouth, in his words. “I don’t need help.” 

“Shut up,” Jean answers, his head bowed with Mikasa’s hand near his forehead. “Just shut up, Yeager.” 

And Eren wants to argue, to fight back, but he doesn’t, because Mikasa is sleeping and peaceful and fighting Jean will not wake her. Instead, he stands, shoving his chair aside louder than he means to before he leaves the room, finding himself outside a few moments later. It’s dusk now, the sun setting behind the walls, and Eren wishes for a moment he’d paid more attention to the rise and fall of it last night and this morning; he might’ve appreciated it more had he known Mikasa would not be awake to see it with him again.

It’s autumn, the breeze in the air chilly, biting at his cheeks and nipping softly at his lips. Despite him constantly swiping his tongue across them, they persist in being painfully chapped; he intentionally bites down on his lip till it bleeds. When he touches it with his fingers and sees the drops of blood he’s surprised, though knows he shouldn’t be. The blood pricks remind him of the needles in Mikasa’s arms earlier. 

“Eren?” Armin’s voice is tentative, a quiet sound in an attempt to avoid startling Eren. “Is…Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says, an automatic response. He faces his friend with more confidence than he feels. “Before you ask, she isn’t awake. They haven’t talked to me, but it sounds like they’re not…really sure if she will wake up or how long it’ll take.” He thinks of Jean, holding her hand like she’s his dying wife or a pretty fiancée. 

“I’m going to go see her for a while, then. Are you coming in?” Despite his words being a question, Eren feels the tug of Armin’s hand around his wrist, luring him back indoors. 

He goes along with Armin wearily and is surprised to see Mikasa’s room empty when they return, save for a doctor whose placing a thick blanket over her. Eren likes the way it’s a dark red, the wool looking more comfortable than the stark white sheets she’s spent the day on. When Eren glances at the doctor, he realizes with a start that it’s the same one who attempted to talk to him earlier before he vomited out the window. The small, tiny part of him that has not lost its dignity cringes and begs him to turn and run before the doctor recognizes him, too. He’s already making to turn around, his hand on the doorknob, when the doctor speaks. 

“Your girlfriend,” the doctor starts, and although both him and Armin are in the room it’s clear who he’s addressing, his gaze never wavering from Mikasa, “will be fine. Give her time. Her body has been through a lot today, wouldn’t you say? Her injuries could be far worse than mild brain damage. She’s lucky that her head hit first and prevented any of her bones from snapping. She will have severe bruising, though.” 

Eren wants to laugh, mostly due to being unable to decide which part of the doctors comments to address. She isn’t his girlfriend, of course she’s been through a lot, and of course there are worse injuries than brain damage, even if Eren can’t think of any besides death itself. He’s saved by Armin—bright, intelligent Armin—who thinks not to respond, but to ask, “But she will survive?” It surprises Eren just how much he does—and doesn’t—want the answer. 

“I believe so,” the doctor answers in a tone not quite convincing enough for Eren. “But I can’t make any promises. I’m not God.” 

“We understand,” Armin replies before Eren has a chance to make a comment he knows the doctor won’t appreciate. “We’re close friends, is it okay if we stay with her?”

“As long as you don’t interfere with treatment.” The doctor’s words, once again spoken to both of them, seem particularly aimed at Eren. He touches Mikasa’s head once more, much to Eren’s irritation—can’t any of them understand how she wouldn’t want their dirty hands all over her? A sharp bite on his tongue draws blood and they watch with palpable relief as the doctor exits. 

“They’re already treating her like a corpse,” Eren says, sitting in the same chair from earlier. Armin sits in the seat Jean had been occupying earlier, and though Eren is curious as to where he’s gone, he’s grateful it’s Armin in his spot. 

Armin chooses not to respond, instead reaching for Mikasa’s hand. When he lifts it, her fingers fall, as if weightless. As if they haven’t scaled giant walls and buildings, killed titans—killed humans. Anxiety creeps into Eren’s chest—she’s too strong to be lying down this helpless. She is not the lifeless body that she’s been reduced to. His palms sweat and he’s tapping his foot loudly, the sound the only noise besides the collective breathing amongst the three of them. 

He’s not aware of the lapse of time that expands between them, doesn’t count the minutes he keeps his head bowed, foot tapping, palms sweating. He’s aware that it’s a little past sundown when they enter her room but that the moon is bright, full and clear, when Armin touches his shoulder. 

“She’s not going to wake up tonight.” It’s the first words spoken in what Eren assumes is over an hour, possibly two. “It would be worth getting sleep. You can’t help her if you’re tired.”

Always the voice of reason, Eren thinks. But he knows it won’t dissuade him from leaving her side. Of all the times to show her how much he sincerely cares, he finds it ironic she can’t be awake to see it. “I’ll catch up later.” 

Armin sighs but doesn’t contest his words; it’s fruitless and, if he’s honest with himself, it’s comforting to him, too, that one of them stay with her should she wake. Neither of them would want her to open her eyes and find she’s alone. “I’ll see about bringing a blanket and pillow in here for you.”

Eren’s smile is weary but grateful, for surely no one else would have thought to be so considerate. Armin leaves, returning a bit later with a spare blanket and pillow, both of which smell rather musty and used but will suffice. Armin leaves only after Eren promises to alert him should Mikasa, by some miracle, wake before morning. They say their goodbyes without enthusiasm. 

It takes Eren more time than he’d like to adjust to the wood flooring. In the end, he pushes the two chairs together, facing each other, and curls up, drawing his knees near his chin, the pillow beneath his head. It is not comfortable in the least, but he’s close enough he can see her and hear her breathing, a lullaby for him to fall asleep to. 

\---

The first three days are the worst for Eren. Throngs of people come to visit her and the continued irony of more people wanting to spend time with her now that she’s unconscious than when she’s awake is not lost on him. He can’t stop them from touching her, no matter how much he snaps at them—they touch her hands and arms, her hair, even her toes underneath her socks. Some of the people who come to see her Eren doesn’t recognize at all and he vaguely wonders about the life she has when she isn’t talking to him or keeping her eyes fixated on his movements. (Are all these people her friends, or people who have come to pay their last rites?) 

Despite disappearing initially, Jean frequents more often than Eren would like for him to, but there’s always genuine concern when he asks how she’s doing or if her condition has changed. He can’t fault someone for genuinely caring about her, though he wishes it were only he and Armin with her most often. When Jean does come, Eren often gets the impression he wants to say something to her, casting Eren irritated glances that tell him to go away; Eren’s always intentional in turning his gaze away from the two but never does he leave the room. He refuses to trust her with really anyone but himself, though on the third day Sasha, who bites her fingernails with nerves before talking to him, approaches him with caution. 

“Eren, she really could use a familiar face besides yours…I know her and I aren’t the best of friends but I would really like to help her out. I’m a girl so I can at least give her a sponge bath and help clean her a bit.” She nibbles on her lip for a second before adding, “The doctors and nurses are fine with it, but they say you aren’t really letting anyone visit her for long…”

Her offer seems to come with hesitation and rightfully so, for Eren has been closely monitoring those who come in, unwilling to leave her alone with anyone who might inadvertently cause excess damage (Sasha certainly seems a liability). He can’t particularly trust Mikasa’s care to anyone and asks about the medication in every needle they inject in her. He’s set up his new room and camp up beside her bed and has left it only for an hour at a time at most to shower himself and eat quickly—he hates eating with the other recruits who begin to pester him about the wellbeing of the soldier worth a hundred souls. 

But he also doesn’t want Mikasa to wake up feeling entirely disgusted with being unclean and uncared for over an extended period of time, as if no considerations were thought of. He has no idea about when she will wake (because she will, he’s certain of it) and, despite his own initial concern, he agrees with reluctance, his fingers drumming against his thigh even as he consents. It’s better that Sasha do it then an unfamiliar female nurse. Sasha noticeably relaxes before perking up, ushering him out of the room with a cheerful, “Come back in an hour!” 

He doesn’t leave, however, and spends the hour sitting outside her door, occasionally getting up to pace but mostly just tapping his foot against the wooden floor in the hall. He sees Sasha come out twice: once to request a nurse bring warm water and a large sponge and the second time for assistance in shifting her into an easier position to wash down her back and help with her hair. Irritable, Eren finds himself telling Sasha those are things he could’ve easily helped with, but Sasha pointedly ignores him, though he swears he hears her murmuring something about Mikasa needing privacy before she retreats back inside the bedroom. When Sasha finally lets him back in, sweat above her brow and a proud smile on her face, he enters with trepidation. 

He immediately wants to redress her. 

He’s not sure when a change of clothes was brought into the room and although it makes sense—her previous clothes were torn and bloody—the white dress she’s laying in hardly feels appropriate and only seems to solidify his earlier comment. “A coffin, you’re all laying her in a coffin,” he remarks, mouth dry. 

“No, no, Eren—” Sasha starts, hands up in a wild gesture as she attempts to articulate an explanation, but Eren can’t hear her over the sound of his laughter, sardonic and contemptuous, filled with disbelief for the lack of regard they all appear to be showing her. 

“I think you should go,” he finally says, cutting her off. 

“Eren, you’re acting really stupid,” Sasha says over him, her own voice rising with irritation. “You’re not the only person worried about her. Stop pretending like you’re the only one allowed to care about how she’s doing.” 

Sasha leaves the room in a huff and Eren closes the door behind her. When she’s gone, he reaches for the scarf that has now been forgotten in the craze of taking care of her. It is dusty from having fallen beneath her bed but he shakes it off outside the window, lets a breeze carry the dirt away. He folds it and tucks it behind her pillow, prays that it will help her wake up, a token of good luck. 

He spends the rest of the night by her side, her hand in his, rolling her fingers between his own.

\--- 

On the fourth day, a nurse arrives to show Eren and Armin how to properly massage her muscles, to help keep them active and healthy, to avoid them starting to wither from disuse. When Eren points out that she hasn’t been inactive that long and that she was always out and about when she could be before, the nurse merely says, “It’s never too early to start taking care of them,” and neither Eren nor Armin disagree with her. Neither of them want to draw attention to the way the nurse seems to already believe Mikasa will be, as Eren puts it, ‘asleep’ for a while.

Eren is almost hesitant at first to touch her; it occurs to him that despite all the time he’s spent with her, despite holding her hand and occasionally fixing her hair or clothing, he has not touched her much. It is not Eren but Armin who mimics the nurse first, a look of concentration on his face so serious that Eren pushes past his own concerns and trivial worries to help, too. A small part of him expects her skin to feel cool when he finally touches her, truly and honestly touches the skin of her legs, and is surprised that her body is still so warm, so alive, and so _healthy_. 

For a time, the nurse stand over them, watching and correcting as she sees fit, adjusting their postures and straightening their fingers, showing them how to properly bend and curl into her tight muscles until they’re soft and pliant. She does not leave until she’s satisfied they are doing it correctly. While most of their work is centered on her legs, they’re also conscious to massage the muscles of her arms and Armin gently prods at her ribs—all areas they know are severely bruised from the fall. After giving them the instructions to do it twice a day for an hour each time, she leaves the care to Eren and Armin. 

Armin and him work in silence for some time, finishing quietly, their labored breathing and sounds of clothes shuffling against each other the only noise the filters through the room. When Armin finishes, he stops and looks at Eren, who is holding her palm in his hand, pressing at it with care. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow, okay, Eren? We can do it together.” 

Eren rests her palm back on her thigh before nodding his head, murmuring a quiet, “See you tomorrow,” before watching his friend leave and close the door. He contemplates stopping him, asking Armin to stay and keep him company too; in the end, he merely pushes the two chairs back together again and curls into the cushions, falling asleep to the sound of quiet breathing once more.

\--- 

They think he’s going a little insane, off his rocker, losing his marbles—Eren supposes in some ways they’re all probably right. He doesn’t have to see faces to hear them through the walls, to hear nurses gossip about the boy who won’t let them do their job, who won’t let them stick needles in their sick patient and who insists on asking fifty questions when they do. He only willingly lets in Armin, Sasha, and Jean—though even he can admit his attitude towards both Jean and Sasha has been anything but kind, despite their want to help.

It is on the fifth day that the commander and his captain decide to come visit her. Eren knew it was inevitable; he tries not to consider that they’re doing it to pay their last respects and instead chooses to think they’re visiting out—out of what, exactly? 

“Is she well?” is the first question Erwin asks, staring down at Mikasa, eyes narrowed in what Eren takes to be concern. 

Eren supposes he should’ve given a proper and formal greeting to both his superiors but in light of the circumstances, he doesn’t much care about being impolite. If Erwin or Levi notices, they choose not to remark on his rudeness. 

“She’s alive,” Eren says after a moments thought. Saying she’s well seems too vague; of course, she’s alive, she’s breathing, her heart beats and her blood still pulses, but she rarely moves except with the effort to sigh, as though too exhausted and overwhelmed even in her unconscious state. 

Levi says nothing; he’s kept a respectful distance and Eren wonders if the captain is worried that she’s contagious. Levi’s gaze meets his and his lips quirk oddly as he says, “I’m sure she’ll wake soon.” 

Eren nods his head, watches as Erwin examines her with his own eyes; surely, Eren thinks, they’re assessing what the loss of her abilities means for them, for the survey corps. In some ways, Eren is sure, Mikasa’s value is higher than his own. 

They’re gone as quickly and quietly as they came, with no notes taken and no real goodbyes said to him. It’s certainly better that way, for Eren had stepped out of the room a few minutes into the meeting upon their request and was in no particular mood to do much talking. He’d gone to take a shower and eat; upon his return, he found them gone. 

After he comes back, he takes up residence in her room once more. Armin stops by, greeting Eren with a sincere smile before he begins to talk to Mikasa as plainly if she were awake to answer. He fills her in on his days—he’s been invited to help on a mission he can’t really talk about—but tells her that besides training and eating and showering, all things are the same, only minus her. He does not mention that by default they are all also minus Eren; he does not mention that without his two closest friends, his daily activities seem even more dull and mundane than before. 

Another week passes by and Eren does not leave her side.

\--- 

After two full weeks pass, it is decided that Eren will no longer sit by her beside twenty-four hours a day as her stand-in nurse; it is not his duty, he’s told, to watch over her body like a keeper of the dead, for he’s needed in training and is told instead to focus his energy on learning how to better manipulate his own titan form and test its abilities once more. Despite knowing the truth in the words told to him, that he really _is_ too valuable to be playing caretaker, he still fights the orders. He screams and yells so loudly it’s a wonder it does not startle Mikasa awake, pull her from the sleep she has fallen into. His pleas fall on the deaf ears of his superiors.

“You’ve had enough time,” is all Levi says with malice that does not reach his eyes. “Tough shit.” 

Upon his return, while they all have their suggestions of things he should attempt to practice as a titan, he finds that Levi and even Hanji give him freedom to try new things—in small, limited quantities of course, but they let him try to climb the walls, to attempt to learn to speak. They do not question why, when he changes for the first time in over two weeks, he has to pause to stare at his hands—hand that look so different and yet so similar to the ones that held Mikasa for a few moments before dropping her. 

He learns that when he’s lifting up heavy boulders, when he’s following Hanji’s instructions, he can better ignore the constant stream of worries he has for Mikasa. He’s allowed to return at night to be by her side, to talk to her about his day as if she’s listening; they let him continue to fall asleep in the chairs beside her bed. 

The doctors stop answering his questions about what is in the needles they are injecting into her arm when he is not there.

\--- 

It happens four days after he’s been forcibly removed from her side.

He’s eating a chunk of bread with soup that’s too hot for such a warm day in the dining hall for lunch when he feels a tap on his shoulder—it’s Hanji, a smile on their face so large and wide, that Eren knows the news about to be told to him before words have left their lips. Jean and Sasha—who have spoken little to him since his brusque attitude to them both—are nearby, watching with interest. 

“She’s awake!” Hanji’s voice is as excited as ever, and Eren knows there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in this line of thought. He’s already turning to leave as Hanji says behind him, “But she’s not really herself.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Eren asks, not surprised to find Hanji following along beside him, no doubt interested in the meeting about to occur. While irritating, there’s little he can do to prevent it. He’s sure he hears the footsteps of Jean and Sasha behind him, though cannot bring himself to turn around and tell them to go away with his priority is going to see her. 

“You’ll see,” is all he receives by way of reply, though he can tell Hanji is just as excited to have her awake as he is.

The walk seems exceptionally long and before Eren realizes it, he’s sprinting ahead, thoughts of any and all issues she might have not a concern; he’s confident they can deal with anything. They’ve already been through so much, after all. 

When he reaches her door and opens it, he finds the room full, packed with more people than he’s ever seen. They’re mostly faces he’s unfamiliar with—aside from Armin to her right, with look of concern Eren is accustomed to by now—and it occurs to him that perhaps her being out of commission has affected more people than just those in the survey corps, though now is not the time to fathom why or how. The faces and bodies are around her bed and when he enters completely, a noticeable hush follows through with him; he brushes off the oddness of it in favor of pushing through the people to see her. 

Her dress—white still, but a newer one and much cleaner, indicating she’s recently been changed—is splayed around her and he notes that while he’d previously thought she’d looked ready for a coffin, now that she’s awake and so very, very alive, she’s as pretty as any angel could ever hope to be. He thinks of the scarf, still tucked behind her pillow, and wonders if it helped her at all. 

“Mikasa,” he breathes, relief and grief and sadness palpable in his voice despite the effort he takes to remain calm. “You’re awake.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying to me. I’ve been asleep for a while, or so I’m told,” she replies, a smile on her lips as she cocks her head to the side. “But who are you? And do you know Eren Yeager? No one here will tell me where he is.” 

Certainly, the hush that falls now puts the earlier one to shame. He hadn’t realized that at some point, Hanji has stepped in; in a surprisingly uncharacteristic quietness, they begin to usher people out, murmuring, “Leave, shoo!” at the same time. Eren’s head spins with confusion and he’s sure his face is contorted in an ugly manner, though Mikasa does not seem to notice. He stares into her eyes, hopes she’ll recognize the color of his; she turns her head to face Armin.

“This guy,” she adds, continuing and motioning to Armin, who looks increasingly upset, “keeps saying he’s Armin, but he’s too old, though they do look similar… But my friend Eren? Have you seen him?” 

Eren’s temple begins to throb and the irony of the situation is not lost on him; it’s unfortunate and cruel of her to be brought back to him with an apparent lack of memory of her current life. 

He takes a few steps forward to sit at the foot of her bed and notices the way she withdraws up her foot towards her body with an unsure glance at the one of the doctors to her left for reassurance, as though Eren will harm her—to her, he is a stranger in a room full of them, and she does not understand his intentions. Armin murmurs a quiet, “He’s not going to hurt you,” to her, though her face reveals her true skepticism; she has already made her distrust of Armin evident and is reluctant to believe him.

She’s closing in on herself in a way that’s far too childish for her age and Eren cannot easily piece together what is happening; it’s clear her memory is hazy and, from her words, he assumes she believes herself younger than what she is.

“No,” Eren answers after a minutes thought, thinking of his parents, of the scarf he’d given her, the life she’d helped him create since his parents death. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Mikasa frowns, seeming distraught once more, and says, “Will _you_ help me look?” He wonders if she’s asked everyone else in the room already, pleaded with them to help her find a boy they all know is now a fifteen-year-old teenager. 

“Yes,” Eren replies, smile tight and insincere but Mikasa does not see it for what it is; she cannot read the emotions of Eren the teenager, only Eren the child. “I’ll help you. We’ll look until you find him.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always felt like he'd be dramatic if something happened to her -- refuse to really leave or let someone else "protect" her, in a way. (Similar to how I imagine she'd be with him, I suppose.) 
> 
> I'm not in any way, shape, or form a doctor so I apologize if anything seems incorrect. I also did not have this one beta'd beforehand, so if there's any glaring imperfections, please feel free to tell me. 
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll create a second part to this or not but for now I'm planning on leaving it as-is.


End file.
